


Who killed James Barnes?

by Captain_Holland



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Captain America - All Media Types, Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Superman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All Superheroes are patients, All Supervillains are staff, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Asylum is haunted by something, Bruce Wayne sees bats everywhere, Clark thinks he can fly, Everyone seems to have a secret, Explicit Language, Gen, Horror, Jonathan Crane likes to scare the patients, Lex Luthor is the head of the asylum, Loki is Loki, Mentions of Suicide, Murder Mystery, OMC gets forced to stay in the asylum, OMC investigates the murder, Peter barely talks, Real life cluedo, Ronan accuses everyone of everything, Schizophrenic!Bruce, Selina Kyle pretends she doesn't care about the patients but she actually does, Steve thinks he lives in a different time, Thor has a god complex, Tony is severely depressed, Violence, dark humour, slightly crackish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Holland/pseuds/Captain_Holland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Michael Hyde is not exactly a rookie, but nothing could prepare him for this: A murder case in a mental asylum full of strange patients and shady staff.</p><p>The case seems easy enough until he hears the facts: no murder weapon in sight, the place of death is uncertain and no one has a clue who the murderer is.<br/>But there is one thing that will haunt Michael for the rest of his life. </p><p>Where the hell is the body?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginning

It was a tuesday when Michael drove away from the station with a headache so severe he shouldn't actually be driving. He had thought about calling in sick today, but of course this was the moment the bureau called in with a case for him. Since he was the only one available and his boredom was bigger than his headache, he now found himself speeding away on the highway to his end destination: Luthor's Asylum for the Mentally Insane.

Wincing at the pale morning sun he held a hand above his eyes and handled the wheel with his other. Everything he did practically screamed irresponsible driving, but he couldn't bring himself to care much. Headache and fatigue aside, he was actually excited to finally have a big case like this again. Mental asylums weren't really his thing, but he would about grasp anything with his bare hands if it meant that he could spend his time actually working on a murder instead of being forced to help with paperwork for theft and other minor crimes at the bureau.

It was the twelfth of December, 2014, and Detective Michael Hyde was headed for his first murder case in months. Last night the world had turned white after a sudden snowstorm. The case he was speeding to also marked the first case without his partner Susan who killed herself after having suffered from depression for years. Michael still blamed himself for her death because he hadn't see it coming, even though it had been her own choice and no one could've possibly stopped her from doing it. But that was simply what people did: blame themselves for every single thing that went wrong in life. Or they blamed others, which was far easier to do. But not him. Oh no, not Saint Michael and his noble goals in life, as his colleagues would say. 

Michael dug his fingers in the steering wheel and crushed his teeth together with a loud crunch. It was a bad habit of his that was seriously damaging his teeth by now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

All things aside, Susan's prescence in the car was deeply missed. No one could ever replace her and no one ever would and he just had to find a way to accept that. 

 

\---------

 

The drive took about an hour. It was 9.32am on the little clock of the car when Michael turned right and stopped in front of a big automatic gate. He showed his badge to the little camera and heard a buzzing sound that indicated that he was granted permission to enter the property. The gates opened with a rattle and Michael drove through them up a long path leading to a massive old building that no doubt was the asylum. He was glad he just had to drive straight, since he couldn't see the road because of the snow. His headache had dulled a little during the trip and he was grateful when he could finally park the car and breathe in the cold fresh air that the huge trees surrounding him provided. 

Looking around, Michael noticed that the building wasn't really that creepy for an asylum. He had half expected a victorian mansion with eternal thunderclouds above it when he came here, but that had just been a stupid thought. Still, Michael was relieved to hear the cheerful chirping of birds through the snow covered trees, though he would never admit it to himself.

Looking up at the building, he noticed that it was practically completely covered with poison ivy at one side. A few barred windows were visible through the leaves that made Michael think of a prison. And in a way that was exactly what the building was: build to keep the inhabitans from leaving. 

_No, not from leaving. Escaping. Hell, I can't blame them from going nuts in there - or, well, more nuts than they already are. There is something deeply unsettling about this place. Not just because of the people it houses, but... something else. The faster I'm done here the better._

Michael didn't really expect to be there for long. From his position in the parking lot he could already see two cameras directed at the parking lot and the front of the asylum. That should indicate there were a lot more on the inside and chances were pretty high the murder was caught on tape.

After breathing in a little more fresh air, Michael locked his car and walked towards the big front doors. Along the way he made so much noise because of the gravel that his headache threatened to come back in force if he did not stop the aggravating noise. He quietly apologised by rubbing his temples and finally pushed the doors open. 

Michael stepped into a clinically looking and smelling hallway with a wooden staircase on his left and a reception desk in front of him. There were several more doors on his right that looked a lot more modern than the old doors that led outside. In fact, everything seemed completely up to date as he looked around him.

While walking towards the desk he took off his jacket and held it in his hands when he reached his destination and addressed the woman sitting there.

"Morning ma'am, my name is Detective Michael Hyde. I'm from the PD down town." He pulled out his badge for the second time that day and showed it to her. "I understand there has been a situation in here?" 

The woman inclined her head to him and smiled sweetly at him. She looked very pretty with her thick dark hair and red lipstick. Far too pretty to be working in a place like this, Michael thought.

"That is correct, Detective. Thank you for your quick arrival. I must admit that we are all still pretty shaken about what has happened. I would offer you some coffee first, but I think it's best if I show you immediately to the place where - well, where it happened I suppose."

Her red lips quivered a little, but other than that she kept on a calm facade. Michael wanted to say something to her to comfort her, but everything just sounded stupid in his head. He never knew quite what to say to people who were upset. A fault of his that had always been compensated by his late partner Susan. She had known what to say and what not to say in about any situation.

Fuck, how he missed her.

Michael followed the woman - who's name was Selina Kyle, judging from the nameplate on her white uniform - up the wooden staircase that looked antique, but was clearly renovated not that long ago. None of the steps creaked and the old wood shined as if it was brand new. Now he was thinking about it, he could vaguely remember reading once in the paper that this asylum had only been opened about eleven years ago. Before that the building had been abandoned for a very long time.

_Why does every asylum have to be so goddamn creepy? Is it a rule in the manual or something to use only old creepy buildings in the middle of nowhere?_

On the second landing Selina walked towards a door that said: 'Male's ward - high security section' and opened it using not only a key card but also a password. Instinctively Michael pretended to be very interested by an old stain on the wall when she typed it in. 

The door at last opened, they walked through a narrow hall with many turns before coming across another door that got the same treatment as the one before that. Michael half expected to see another dusty hallway, but he was surprised to see they had come into an enormous bright hall. Selina opened a gate with one of her keys and Michael stepped forward and looked over the railing into the room.

Down below was a wide space with two large tables. When he looked around, he saw that on both his left and right were a row of cells. He counted ten. All doors were closed and it was strangely quiet. Michael was standing on a small platform that was sealed off downstairs by a metal door. 

_To keep the loonies out,_ a voice whispered in his head.

"This way please. It won't be too far now."

Selina startled him and he was abruptly reminded that he was not completely alone in here after all, thank God. Speaking about God, Michael silently sent a 'thank you' that he did not have to stay here and could leave before long.

After opening gate after gate they crossed the spacious room and went through a door that led to a hallway that led to yet another door. Michael, disorientated as he already was with his headache, was relieved when they finally arrived and the big bloodstain on the floor became visible.

The room appeared the be some sort of art classroom. Everywhere Michael looked he could see easels and paintings. Many of them looked too disturbing to look at for more than a few seconds.

Two men who were seated at a table covered in scratches and holes stood up when they came in and walked towards them.

"Doctor Jonathan Crane. You must be the officer."

Michael affirmed this and accepted the offered hand a bit reluctantly. The doctor was dressed in white like Selina, but clearly looked like a psychologist. Michael did not particularly like the look in the impossibly blue eyes of the man. He released the doctor's hand as soon as he could without being rude. 

"And I am director Lex Luthor, head of the asylum. Pleased to make you aquintance, though the circumstances aren't exactly pleasant of course. You can go now, nurse."

Selina bowed her head and shot a last smile at Michael before swiftly leaving through the door. Michael hated to see her go. He liked her a lot and was not really happy with being left behind with these two men that were looking at him expectantly. 

Michael scraped his throat and wiped his hands on his pants while walking past Dr. Crane and Luthor to the bloodstain.

"Aren't there supposed to be more people with you? To take photos and mark things and things like that?" came the silky voice of the doctor behind Michael's back as he knelt down by the stain.

"You watch too much CSI, doctor. I'm afraid the state has cut down the budget of police forces so much that we can't afford all those things you just mentioned when it isn't really necessary. Is it fishy? Yes. But as long as we bring in the bad guys and have some proof it is all good."

"And why isn't it necessary in this case, exactly? I mean, you have been told that we have absolutely no clue what has happened here?" asked Luthor.

Michael closed his eyes for a second before standing up and turning towards the two men again. The doctor now looked at him with narrowed eyes, definitely not pleased with the answer he had received, while Lex Luthor managed to look both amused and concerned at the same time. Michael pointed towards the top corner of the room.

"The cameras, of course. All institutions like this one are supposed to have cameras directed at every single little space of the building. We'll look at the tapes, see the murder take place, and we'll have our killer. Easy as that."

Doctor Crane and Lex Luthor glanced at each other uncomfortably before looking everywhere but at him. Michael stared at them and grew slowly but surely irritated. His headache was creeping up again and his vision slightly blurred in the left corner. At last, Luthor spoke up:

"We... don't actually have the murder on tape. Impossible."

Michael stared at them and tried not to show his frustration at that. "And may I ask why the _hell_ your cameras weren't working as they were supposed to?"

"A major blackout," said Dr. Crane smoothly with a tone of pity in his voice. "As you may recall there was a snowstorm last night. One particular blow struck at the wrong place at the wrong time and caused a electricity blackout throughout the whole asylum. Lights went out, cameras turned off, and-", he breathed out through his nose, "some of the cells went open when they were not supposed to, even under a circumstance like this. There is an emergency lock on every cell, which causes the celldoors to immediately open when for example the firealarm goes off, but on the other hand it's also supposed to stay locked when the power goes out. All the celldoors are locked by an automatic system, you see. On paper the special locks hold on for at least a couple of hours without any power. Yet in reality they failed by a few cells. Obviously."

What a bullshit. System failure my ass. These locks have to work like they are supposed to. Aren't there check-ups or something like that every year?

Michael rubbed a hand over his face and felt suddenly ten years older than he was. He would kill for some painkillers right now. Or. Well. Maybe not literally. He could almost hear Susan laughing at him for making inappropiate comments at a crime scene.

"Great. That's just- yeah. We may need more people here after all. I will need a list of all the patients whose cells opened last night. And camerafootage just before and after the power went out would be nice. I will also have to interview each patient whose cell opened. It shouldn't be that hard to find traces of blood on someone. But first: I would like to see the body now."

Michael walked towards the door, but stopped once he noticed the other two men weren't moving. Dr. Crane looked at him with what Michael could only describe as _glee_ in his eyes, even though the rest of his face remained impassive. Lex Luthor at least had the dignity to look ashamed as he wrung his hands. 

"Well... That's where it gets really... _strange_. I simply have no other word for it. You see, we don't exactly _have_ a body, but we are pretty sure he's d-"

"Hold on for a second!" Michael abruptly cut in. His head was spinning with thoughts and his headache now grew to proportions he had never experienced before. "I don't know if you realize it, but I'm not exactly in the mood for jokes, alright? Show me where that body is, because to tell you the truth I have a headache that-"

"With all due respect, officer," said Dr. Crane in a voice that was anything but respectful, "but do we look like jokers? No. When we say there is no body, we mean it, unfortunately. As you can see we only have that bloodstain as an indicator that something happened. I've studied to become a medical doctor before coming here and I can assure that no human being can lose that much blood and still be alive afterwards to tell the tale. Someone has been murdered and that person is James Barnes, patient 07 of the high security male's ward. His cell was one of the cells that opened last night and he is the only one in the whole building who is missing. We've looked in every single corner of the building but all we could find was the blood in here. We even almost looked over it. So, _officer_ , instead of accusing us of being liars, we ask of you to find out who killed Mr. Barnes and what the whereabouts are of his body. If that's too much for you, you can leave the property right now and we'll call in someone else. Your choice."

Michael didn't even get angry at the attack as his mind was to busy with processing the absurt details of the murder. A patient calles James Barnes got killed by an unknown person, and if that wasn't bad enough, his body was missing.

_Where the fuck can you hide a body without anyone noticing it? They say they searched the whole building, but I don't believe that. I just can't. That doctor was right when he said that no one could lose that much blood and still be alive, but how did the body get moved? There are no dragging marks in the blood or anywhere else on the floor. What's happened here? And why?_

"If you think I'm leaving now, you're wrong. I still want all the information I just asked for. I take the murder weapon is also nowhere in sight? Right. Okay. Just-" Michael suddenly had to surpress a violent shiver when he thought about a body floating away from the crime scene in pitchblack darkness. "Just let's get to work. Let me talk to those patients and hopefully everything will be cleared up before the evening kicks in."

 

When Michael would later look back at that last statement he would laugh so hard that he would strain his ribs.


	2. Patient 01

Luthor excused himself and left Michael to follow Doctor Crane back to the High Security’s Male Ward. There were no sounds except their echoing footsteps as they walked through the hollow hallways that still seemed to be specifically designed to confuse people not familiar with it. 

Arriving in the huge hall again, Crane took him downstairs and opened the gate with one of his keys. The doctor told him to wait at one of the small tables and Michael sat down in a chair that was glued to the ground. 

He swallowed with a dry throat.

“I will send them to you one by one. I do not deem it wise to question them when they’re all together,” Crane said over his shoulder as he opened the door closest to Michael with a complex looking device in his hand. A big ‘01’ was put over the cell door. 

Before Michael had a chance to agree with him, the door opened up and he could get a look at the inside of the cell. 

It was small, not much bigger than Michael’s bathroom. There was just enough room for a small bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. There was no mirror over it, probably for obvious reasons. Under the sink there was what looked like a small bookcase, but he couldn’t be sure from this angle.

And of course, there was the patient too.

He estimated that the man was in his late forties, but he wasn’t entirely sure of it. The patient wore – to Michael’s surprise – normal clothing; grey jogging pants with a sweater with AC/DC splattered across it. He wore no shoes however but thick woolen socks. 

At first glance, the man could just be anyone. But if you looked closer, as he saw when Crane briefly whispered to the man and pointed him toward Michael, you could see the dark bags under his eyes and the dry, chapped lips which he kept chewing at. And then there was this look on his face – Michael couldn’t really name it and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Michael stood up when the man arrived at his table, and after a short moment of hesitation he stuck out his hand towards him.

“Good morning. My name is Michael Hyde and I work for the police downtown. Can I have your name, please?”

The man licked his chapped lips and after a few seconds reached out to shake Michael’s hand. He pulled back after two short shakes.

“Tony Stark,” he answered softly but clearly. His brown eyes took Michael in for a second without his blank expression changing. Michael gestured to him to sit down with him. He did.

“Do you know why I’m here, mister Stark?”  
Tony gaze fluttered quickly towards Crane, who thankfully had moved away a little so he couldn’t overhear them, and then looked down towards the dull gray table. As Michael regarded him, he tried to figure out why the man's name had sounded so familiair to him. Nothing came up though, no matter how hard he tried to dig through his memories.

“You’re-” Tony’s voice caught for a moment and he cleared his throat before continuing. “You’re here for him. For-”

His voice died away again and he closed his eyes. 

“For Bucky.”

Michael bowed his head a little, but Tony made it clear he did not want to make eye contact anytime soon. 

“Was that James’ nickname? Bucky?” Michael got his notebook out of his coat pocket and laid it down on the table. Tony flinched a little when he saw it, but otherwise didn’t respond to either the notebook or his question. Michael simply wrote ‘Bucky’ underneath James Barnes’ name on top of the page. 

“All right. I have a few questions I need to ask each of you in this ward. It would really help me in my investigation to find out who killed James and where-”

He caught himself in time. It probably wouldn’t be very wise to tell a patient – or for that matter _anyone_ \- that there wasn’t even a body. Not that he believed Crane’s and Luthor’s word that they had really searched the whole place for him. Even if they had, there were a few places he knew as an experienced investigator that they very likely had overlooked – or simply hadn’t thought about looking there.

Tony was picking at his lips now with his hand. Michael saw with a quick glance that his nails were bitten so short that the skin had begun to inflame. It must really hurt, but Tony showed no sign of pain. Instead, he saw a few drops of sweat begin to peal on the man’s forehead. His breathing was even, but they were so controlled that he must be doing it on purpose. To hide what he was really feeling; stress. 

"Mister Stark," he began again in a voice he hoped was gentle but not patronizing, "- my only goal is to find out what happened to your friend and I will stop at nothing to figure out who did this to him. I cannot guarantee anything, but I just want you to know that I care. I may not have known him - Bucky - but I will see to it that justice will be served if I find out the truth."

Tony scoffed at him. His brown eyes hardened and he pulled his hand away from his lips, something that clearly took a lot of willpower. 

"Yeah, I've heard policemen talk like that before. Words are meaningless. Do what you say and maybe then I will believe you."

Tony sighed and leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. His gaze was pointed somewhere over Michael's shoulder. He had a distant look in his eye. "Sorry. Have a bit of a trust issue with authorities." He brought his hand up to the sight of his head as if he was scratching his head, but Michael saw that he did it to shield the way his eyes went pointedly to the direction where Crane was still standing watching them as movingless as a mannequin in a store. 

Michael nodded slightly to show that he understood. If he himself had been a patient here he would also develop some serious trust issues around figures like Crane and Luthor. No doubt about it. But how could he convince Stark that he wasn't like that? That he really wanted to help? He didn't have time for this. He needed some leads, something that could push him in a direction to start the investigation. These interrogations could easily take up the whole day. What if after them he would still have no single clue where to even begin?

"Look, I don't know what I can do to win your trust. But if there is anything - _anything_ \- you can tell me that could help me with this case, then please do. If not, I'm going to thank you for this fruitless conversation and I will bring out the next potential witness to my table. If they won't talk either, I will just keep going down the line until someone will. If you can't see that I have no alternate motive here than to solve this case as soon as possible, then I don't know how to convince you otherwise." Michael copied Tony and sat back in his seat as well. Sometimes you had to be a little harsh with people. Show them that this was no game and that his time was not unlimited. He felt a bit bad about doing this to someone who was put in a mental asylum for a reason, but this _headache_...

Tony looked at him for a long time. Michael couldn't really place the look on his face, so he just waited it out. It took him a few seconds to notice that Tony was finally looking him straight in the eye, unwavering. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Tony spoke up. 

“Will you? I mean- Will you find out who did this? No matter what it takes? No matter what _happens_?” His voice was louder, surer than before but still not loud enough that Crane could hear him. There was skepticism in them, but above all he saw a burning sense of hope growing slowly. Of course Tony also wanted nothing else but know what happened to the man he had seen and talked to for years in a environment where you couldn't avoid each other. In his voice, Michael could hear a brief flicker of the person Tony was before he got placed here. Maybe even before he had a mental condition to begin with. 

Michael held his pen still as he scanned Tony’s face. 

“Of course,” Michael said finally in a careful voice. “This is my job. I don’t want anything but find out precisely what happened and who did it. I will see to it that justice will come for James, if it is in my power. For Bucky.”

Tony stared at him for a few seconds. Then, he suddenly leaned forward so fast that Michael dropped his pen on the table. He got grabbed by the lapels of his coat so hard that his nose now almost touched Tony’s. Michael was so surprised and disorientated that he almost didn’t register what Tony was frantically whispering in his ear. Something that made a shiver run up his spine without the cold of the day having anything to do with it. 

“Microphones and cameras. Everywhere. Watch out. _Beware_. The red lights. Peter, he _knows_ where-”

“Stark! Get back! _Now!_ ” Crane’s voice cut sharply and loudly through the hall and a whistling sound sounded. A door banged open on the right and two big guys in white uniforms stormed inside. Tony immediately released Michael and stood up so fast he almost fell over his own feet. He raised his hands as if he was under arrest and the two men grabbed his arms and escorted him back to his cell. 

Before the door was slammed shut Michael caught Tony’s wide, pleading eyes for just a split second. 

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The security personnel wiped their hands off their pants as if they had just touched something dirty and they walked back to where they had come from. 

Silence. 

Stunned, he turned around and saw that Crane was right in front of him. Michael wanted to look away from the ice cold eyes immediately, but forced himself to stay put. 

Crane finally stopped with the staring and walked away to the door next from Tony’s. 

“Mister Stark has always been a bit… unstable. He suffers from severe depression. He checked in here by choice, but got placed in this ward because he became a danger to not only others, as you’ve just witnessed yourself, but also to himself.” 

Michael scoffed at this. He doubted there was even a sliver of danger in Tony Stark. Yet, he decided it would be better if he played along for a while; “And you didn’t think that that would be viable information to tell me beforehand?”

Crane simply lifted a thin eyebrow. 

“This is the High Security Ward for a reason, mister Hyde. I thought it was obvious that these patients cannot be _trusted_." He spat out the last word as if it was obvious and incomprehensible that he had to spell it out for him.

Michael wanted to respond, but decided it would be best to just let it slip. He bit down on his teeth. 

“Now," Crane said smoothly as he moved to the second door. "I think you should leave and come back tomorrow after this patient. We cannot disrupt our schedules anymore than we've already have." Crane took out his keys again and unlocked the heavy door. "Mister Wayne? We have a guest for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kuddos etc are very appreciated! :) A beta reader is being sought, since English is not my first language and I could need som help here and there.


End file.
